


Thaw

by bluejbird



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:37:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Stranded in a cave during an intense snow storm, Jim finds himself struggling to maintain his body temperature. But when Spock offers to help keep him warm, the method isn't exactly what Jim was expecting.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redandglenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redandglenda/gifts).



The cave provides shelter, but not as much as Jim had hoped for. He and Spock sidle into the darkness, and the sharp outcroppings of the cave are illuminated by their torches often too late to avoid scrapes and bruises. Jim knows that when he gets back to the Enterprise, Bones will have a field day nagging him about his minor injuries. At least, Jim hopes their injuries will remain minor.

So far, they’re lucky. Luckier than the rest of the away team, at least. The storm had come up quicker than they, or their scanners, had predicted, so by the time the hail and snow had stopped to a point they could venture out of the cave all that was left of Williams and Sanchez were scraps of red uniform shirts and barely enough remains to send home for a burial along with one of the letters of condolence that Jim hates writing. The wildlife on this planet was even more savage than what Jim had had the displeasure of encountering on Delta Vega.

They’d made their way back to the cave, with what few provisions they could scavenge, just before the storm picked up again. Spock had predicted it would be at least six hours before the Enterprise could beam them out. Which meant six long hours of survival in the cold temperature.

Jim glances over at Spock and sees that his face is as expressionless as always. Not for the first time, Jim envies him. Jim knows his concern must show on his face, but Spock does an admirable job of ignoring it.

The cave is dead-ended, which at least means they’re unlikely to encounter any alien beasts from the depths of the mountain. Knowing where the danger could come from makes it easier, hopefully, in avoiding the fate that befell the rest of the away team.

Neither of them talk as they remove rubble from the floor to make a clear area. Spock uses his phaser to heat one of the larger rocks, and it’s just enough to take the chill out of the air. Jim’s fingers and toes ache in the cold though, and he rubs his hands together, blowing out breath he can see onto his fingertips. He knows all about frostbite, knows the point beyond which Bones won’t be able to regenerate any tissue he loses. So he knows he has to keep the blood flowing, has to keep his body temperature up, if he wants to remain as whole as possible.

“Captain,” Spock says. He’s much closer than Jim expects, and it makes Jim start in surprise. He’s even more surprised when Spock’s hands wrap around his, rubbing slightly to help the circulation.

Vulcan physiology is different than humans in so many ways, Jim knows, including higher body temperatures. He’s felt it before, in meetings when they’ve sat side by side, elbows almost touching, Spock’s body heat radiating pleasantly against his arm. He’s felt it when they’ve been engaged in hand to hand combat against an enemy, when their hands or legs have brushed as they take protective stances. And he’s felt it when one of them has been injured– his hands on Spock’s back, trying to stem a bleeding wound or Spock’s hands on Jim’s temple, checking the severity of a blow.

And that’s what this is, now. Spock performing what medical treatment he can, warming Jim’s hands.

That Jim wishes Spock’s warm hands would do more than touch his, would slide up his arms and across his chest, has nothing to do with it.

Jim clears his throat. “So, remind me. This touch telepathy thing…”

Spock looks amused. His eyebrow lifts slightly, his lips twitch. “I cannot read your thoughts, Captain,” he says. “Not without a mind meld. I can merely sense emotions. However, the environmental temperature is preventing even that from occurring.”

Jim very carefully does not let out a sigh of relief. 

“Good to know,” he says. “Hey, isn’t touching hands like this tantamount to a marriage proposal for Vulcans?” It’s a terrible distractor, but it works. Spock looks unimpressed.

“It appears that despite your exceptional grades, you should have paid more attention in your studies of intergalactic cultures,” Spock chides. “Such actions could only be perceived as sexual or romantic if there was intent behind the touch. Unless there is something you wish to tell me?” His eyebrow raises as high as it can go, and Jim knows Spock is fucking with him, but he can’t hide the flush that blossoms on his cheeks.

“Uh, I think they’re warm enough for now,” Jim lies, pulling his hands away, and shoving them into his armpits. “Thanks.”

“It is my duty to keep you safe,” Spock points out, and Jim rolls his eyes and turns away.

“It’s my duty to keep all of my crew safe,” he says. “And look how that turned out.”

Spock doesn’t say anything. It annoys Jim for a moment– a comforting word would be reassuring, even though he’d probably ignore it anyway. It’s what almost any other member of the crew would do. But Spock is not just any member of the crew.

When the burst of annoyance dissipates, Jim finds he likes the silence. It’s not condemning, just factual. Spock’s silence acknowledges what Jim says as truthful, but as there is no solution, he doesn’t offer one. In a weird way, it helps.

They spend the next hour cataloguing their supplies– a minor amount of food and water, two half charged phasers, a small blanket. They have a brief snack, then Spock suggests they lie close to the heated rock.

“We should keep our bodies in close proximity,” Spock explains as he invades Jim’s personal bubble. Jim’s never been one to mind people invading his space. He’s spent enough of his life invading the space of others, on purpose and by accident of his personality. But Spock is so close that it makes Jim squirm.

“If you wanted to get me into bed,” Jim quips to hide his discomfort, “there are easier ways to do it.”

“I am well aware,” Spock says, and Jim splutters in a mix of indignance and confusion.

Close to the heated rock, and with the warmth of Spock’s body pressed behind him, Jim’s limbs start to thaw. Pins and needles prickle his hands and feet and he bites his lip against the pain. It’s a good feeling, meaning that circulation and sensation are returning to his chilled flesh, but it doesn’t stop him from flinching.

Spock’s hand lands on his hip and Jim goes very still, ignoring the sensation in his extremities and the way his heart leaps into his throat. All he can focus on is the heat of Spock’s hand, burning through the layers of fabric to his skin below.

“Spock?”

“You are still cold,” Spock says. “I merely wished to get closer to you.”

Jim swallows audibly, and tries to relax. He breathes out a long sigh, and as he does so, Spock’s hand slides down, brushing against his groin.

It makes Jim gasp, and Spock pulls his hand back immediately.

“Captain?”

Jim screws his eyes tightly closed and tries to think of as many unsexy things as he can– the stacks of paperwork that await him, the weird tentacled creature on Sateo XI, Scotty in a kilt. But nothing works. Not with the heat of Spock’s body pressed behind him. He knows that if Spock’s body responded the way Jim’s is, he’d feel it immediately, pressed against his ass. That’s how close their bodies are.

“I apologise for any unintentional arousal I have caused,” Spock says, and Jim barks out a laugh. 

He’s so amused that he keeps laughing, clutching at his belly as he rocks onto his back, head tipped back as he sucks in lungfuls of air just to exhale it out in seemingly never ending giggles.

“Captain?”

“Unintended arousal,” Jim says between guffaws. “You’ve been doing that from the moment we met. I never thought I’d hear you apologise for it.”

Then the laughter dies on his lips. Because he hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to let Spock know how he feels. How he’s been feeling for a very long time.

When he’s brave enough to open his eyes, he finds Spock looking down at him, serious as always.

“Am I to understand, Captain,” Spock says, then shakes his head slightly. “ _Jim_ ,” he corrects, “that you regularly experience an attraction to me?”

Jim looks away for a moment. It would be easy to say no. He knows that Spock would pretend nothing happened, that any awkwardness in their working relationship would only come from Jim. But he’s a Kirk, after all, full of stubbornness and the inability to back down from a fight. So he meets Spock’s eyes, shrugs a little and says, “Yeah.”

Spock gives him a contemplative look, then he nods once, as if to himself.

“That is fortuitous,” he says. “I was considering ways with which to increase your body temperature. An orgasm would be sufficient for the time being, however I was uncertain how you would respond to such a proposal. I take it I can now assume that such overtures would be welcome?”

Jim props himself up on his elbows. “Now, hang on a minute,” he says. “I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to do. That’s not–”

“It would bring me great pleasure,” Spock assures him. “This is something I have meditated on for quite some time. Absent of the environmental conditions, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Jim echoes, unsure of what Spock is really proposing.

He finds out almost immediately as Spock nudges up Jim’s shirts, and undoes his pants. Jim’s cock is pressing against his regulation Starfleet briefs, still in response to the earlier brush of Spock’s hand. Now Spock’s fingers brush over it, making it twitch, and the fabric darkens with pre-come.

Spock eases the fabric away, letting it spring free.

“Fascinating,” Spock murmurs, and Jim raises an eyebrow. “I have never had sexual relations with a human male,” Spock explains. It raises more questions than it answers– has he been with males of other species? How many? Has he been with human females other than Uhura? Jim wants to know, and the words are on the tip of his tongue before they’re all washed away in a blur of pleasure, as Spock’s fingers wrap around his cock.

He strokes Jim lightly at first, then firmer as Jim’s cock hardens more. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does– a dry handjob on the floor of a cave, the air cold enough that whenever Spock’s hand slides away from the head of Jim’s cock, the absence of heat is almost painful. And yet it does feel good. Better than good– it feels like the sort of moment that Jim will relive later, in the warmth of his sonic shower.

“Am I performing adequately?” Spock asks, and Jim’s gaze leaves where he’s been watching his cock slide inside Spock’s fist, and moves to meet Spock’s eyes. He huffs out a laugh.

“You are performing excellently, Mr Spock,” Jim says as formally as he can manage under the circumstances, and Spock’s lips quirk. Jim wants to kiss them, and perhaps his increased body heat is enough to let the touch telepathy work again, because Spock seems to read his mind.

His lips on Jim’s are warm, and when Jim opens his mouth and lets Spock’s tongue inside, the heat is so intense that it makes Jim gasp. At the same moment, Spock speeds his hand movements, matching it to the speed of his tongue sliding against Jim’s. Spock suck’s lightly at Jim’s bottom lip and Jim is done, back arching up, pushing himself further into Spock’s fist, coming in shuddering spurts.

Warmth tingles through his body. He feels limp, enough so that he can’t protest when Spock breaks the kiss, then tucks Jim back into his clothing before cleaning himself up.

Once he’s collected himself, Jim sits up and they stare at each other. Neither of them seems to want to be the first to speak, so Jim decides to be brave, to say something that matches what he’s feeling in his heart. He opens his mouth, and his communicator crackles to life.

“Captain, Mr Spock,” a voice says. “Prepare to beam up.”

That’s all the warning they get before Jim finds himself engulfed in a swirl of light. Then he’s sitting in the transporter, blinking into the brightness, a sharp contrast to the darkness of the cave.

“A bit more warning, next time?” Jim says, casting a glance at Spock. Spock looks startled, and Jim wonders if it’s more to do with his calculations for how long the storm would last proving to be so inaccurate, than the fact that they were almost caught doing something that they definitely don’t want the transporter room staff to witness.

“My fault,” Bones says, bustling over, scanner already outstretched. “I was concerned about your body temperature dropping too low and causing permanent damage. But you seem fine.”

“We found ways to keep warm,” Jim says, very pointedly not looking at Spock.

“Good,” Bones says. “I still want you in Sickbay for a full scan, to be on the safe side. You too, Mr Spock.”

Spock, uncharacteristically, goes without protest. Bones seems so shocked that he ends up keeping Spock in longer, even after he’s discharged Jim, checking for neurological damage that could cause a change in personality. He disappears into his office to search for information on cold temperatures affecting Vulcan brains. Jim grins, and even Spock seems a little amused. 

Jim stands awkwardly beside Spock’s biobed. Without the buffer of Bones’s ministrations, Jim finds himself at a loss as to what to say. Spock seems much the same, staring blandly at the wall. After an uncomfortable moment or two, Jim excuses himself. He visits the bridge, where Sulu has everything under control, and engineering, where Scotty is yelling excitedly at Keenser, and the mess, where he makes small talk with the crew. Eventually, he retires to his quarters. 

That night, Jim can’t sleep. He writes letters to the families of Williams and Sanchez. He takes a long shower. He stares at the ceiling.

And then he goes down the corridor to Spock’s quarters, stride decisive and sure.

It doesn’t take long for Spock to answer his door. 

When Jim steps inside, the warmth of the room hits him. He always forgets that Spock keeps the temperature slightly warmer than the rest of the ship, mimicking the temperatures of Vulcan that was. It’s always seemed too warm for Jim before, but tonight it’s welcoming.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Captain?” Spock asks. He’s no longer in his uniform, instead wearing robes that flow around his body.

Jim stares, and swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Jim?”

It’s one thing, Jim knows, to do what they did down on the planet, in a time of need. It’s quite another to do something on board the Enterprise. More real. More meaningful. More risky.

He thinks he should probably be scared. But he isn’t.

“I thought I could assist you,” Jim says, tone clearly conveying his meaning.

Spock stares at him for a moment, and Jim’s heart skips a beat or two as he waits.

Then Spock smiles. It’s a real, honest to god smile, something that Jim hasn’t really seen before.

“That would be most welcome,” Spock says. 

They’ve wasted so much time that Jim isn’t going to waste any more. So he strides towards him, taking Spock’s face in his hands, and kisses him like he’s wanted to since the moment they met. 

Spock kisses back, just as hungrily, and when Jim nudges him towards the bed, hands moving over Spock’s body to divest him of his robes, Spock makes a pleased sound in his throat. It’s a sound Jim gets to hear over and over again that night, and, he hopes, also in the days to come. 


End file.
